My Sweetest Downfall
by LoneWolfLoverGirl
Summary: After Rin's death, Sesshoumaru reflects on his memories of her and the effect she's had on his life. SesshRin


I never knew it would hurt so much.

Or maybe, deep down, I did know. I think I knew from the beginning. Because I knew when I swung my sword, that time on the bloodstained woodland path, that I would regret it. I knew.

So why? Why didn't I just leave her lying there?

Because she caught me even before that. From that first, shining, gap-toothed smile I was trapped, and trapped worse than a flailing fly in a spider's web. I was trapped, and I struggled, but half-hearted always, because deep down, I didn't want to escape.

Otherwise, I could have left her (would have left her? should have left her?) on that day in the forest. One more little bloodstained bundle of rags would mean little enough to the world. Little enough to a proud daiyoukai, emotionless and strong.

But the smell of her blood on the wind…

The smell of her death. I couldn't bear it.

So even then, I knew.

And I knew, with every step I took along the way to this inevitability, that it would come. I knew the laughing child following behind me would come to this. I knew, and I tried to keep her away, keep myself safe and impenetrable, but I failed.

Her roots found their way into cracks I never knew were there, grew and split them, laid my heart open like some bloody fruit. Only for her, that fruit, for her to take and eat, piece by piece, until she held my whole heart, and I was hers.

And she was mine, mine to protect, mine to hold, mine to catch every time she fell.

But even I can't catch her in this final fall.

Once, I found a little girl, dead in the road. Once, I drew my sword, the useless sword my father bequeathed me (thank you, Father. Did you know, then, what your gift would do to me?). Once, I walked away, and listened, though I despised myself for listening, for footsteps pattering up behind.

Once I walked through sunlit fields, grass rustling about my legs, and a child running behind me, chasing butterflies. And I tried not to think.

Once we sat at the top of a cliff and watched the sun sink into the ocean. And the fingers of the slender girl beside me found my hand, and I didn't jerk away. I just sat, and tried not to think.

Once, I walked through a forest, and birds sang in the trees, and there was a fight waiting for me somewhere, but not quite here, and the path was firm and straight under my feet, and behind me Jaken argued with a laughing child. And I tried not to think.

Once, I fought, dancing the wild blade-dance of battle. My sword (the one that brought death and victory, not life and pain) sung in my hand, and blood stained the blade, stained my hands, my clothes. And walked away from the carnage with no regrets. I was a death-bringer, I was a fighter, a killer, and I had joy in it. Because when I lived to bring death, I ruled death, and death danced to my song. And I tried not to think that a time would come when I would no longer be the master.

Once, I walked a long road, but I was not alone. And in one hand I carried death, and in the other, life. And I was powerful, and I was safe, because that was before I knew the limits of my power. And I never looked back.

Once, a half-girl, half-woman, all-mortal child turned to me and smiled, and greatly daring, kissed me. Kissed me and tugged the cords around my heart tighter yet, as if they weren't already tied firm. And I returned that kiss, with awkward lips, because this was one place where I knew no more than her. And in that moment, I didn't have to think.

Once I woke in the grey light of dawn, and turned over to get up, and fell back in sudden pain, a woman's hands entangled in my hair. And she made a tiny noise of protest, and I lay back down. And still and stiff I lay as the sun rose, as she moved closer, snuggling against me with a contented murmur. And I lay still, and tried not to think of what this meant. What she meant. And she woke when the sun was high, her head resting on my chest, and her hands still grasping my hair, and leapt away, as if afraid. But who was more afraid, that cold morning?

Once, I caught a falling child in my arms, and felt myself begin to fall as well.

Once, she asked me to remember her. And I knew I could never forget, however hard I might try. And it tore my heart to admit it, even only to myself, because I knew it would only bring me sorrow.

Once, I stood on the eaves of a forest, a dark-haired woman at my side, and we watched the rain fall. I heard it patter on the leaves, send up splashes of muddy water from the puddles spread along the path. And I remembered a little girl who used to jump in every puddle we passed, splashing and laughing and dirty-footed. And I looked at the woman beside me, and she looked at me and smiled, and the sun burst out from behind a cloud.

But the rain didn't stop falling. And I couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop feeling, couldn't stop loving.

Once, I knelt by a futon, and an old, old woman, lying on it. Her hand held mine, and it was wrinkled and frail and would have shaken like a leaf or a nervous laugh if it weren't for my hand, strong still and young, around it. And each labouring breath she drew seemed to catch in my chest as well as hers, and I was afraid. And as her breathing shuddered and slowed, I felt my eyes burning with unaccustomed tears.

And her hand held mine tight, and she gave me one last smile, and then clouds covered the sun, and the light in her eyes went out.

Once, I walked silently away from the room, and the cold still thing that lay there. The thing that was no longer life, laughter, love. And I was alone, and lost, without my dancing, smiling, shadow. And I wept.

I wept.

Because it hurt more than any pain I'd ever known.

It felt as though I'd lost some essential part of myself. Nothing so mundane as a limb, that means nothing in comparison. Something deeper, more fundamental.

My heart still beat within my chest, and yet I felt as though it had been torn out.

And I would tear it out myself, with my own hand, if I thought it would bring her back.

But it wouldn't.

And I will walk through the world without her. I will endure, and I will remember. Because I promised her so.

And sometimes, I walk through a field, and think she runs behind me.

Sometimes, I scent the air, and think I smell the perfume of her, drifting on the breeze.

Sometimes, from some human village, a child's laugh rings, and it tugs at my heart.

Sometimes, the sun shines from behind a cloud, and I think of her smile.

And sometimes I think I hear a voice behind me, calling, _"Sesshoumaru-sama?" _And I turn and look, though I know there's nothing behind me but empty air and the wind in the trees. But still, the wind lifts my hair and brushes a kiss across my cheek. And I turn into the sunset and almost smile.


End file.
